


clover honey and copper

by malkinisms (hannibalisms)



Series: it's been a real hard year [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Real Person Fiction, Thor (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalisms/pseuds/malkinisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was not what Chris thought his life was going to turn in to; he thought maybe that coming to London from Melbourne would allow him to pursue his dream of acting, but it only went south.  He found a few bit parts, just enough to pay the bills, but with so many others in the city it became something of an effort in futility.  He's either too built or not built enough, or his accent doesn't fit the part - and an accent coach is far too expensive, even after he takes the job waiting tables at the gourmet burger place near his flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	clover honey and copper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theradicaldame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theradicaldame/gifts).



> I, of course, have no claim over these fine gentlemen and this is a COMPLETE work of fiction.
> 
> Written for the lovely [Dakota](http://theradicaldame.tumblr.com), because she makes me write the filthiest things.
> 
> This comes about because of the new iPhone/iPad 1883 Mag exclusive pictures of Tom that came out the other day.
> 
> Also [here on tumblr](http://kipumylly.tumblr.com/post/31445059673/clover-honey-and-copper).

This was not what Chris thought his life was going to turn in to; he thought maybe that coming to London from Melbourne would allow him to pursue his dream of acting, but it only went south.

He found a few bit parts, just enough to pay the bills, but with so many others in the city it became something of an effort in futility.  He's either too built or not built enough, or his accent doesn't fit the part - and an accent coach is  _far_  too expensive, even after he takes the job waiting tables at the gourmet burger place near his flat.

He was a bouncer for a while - with the beard and the long hair, he looked the part - but he found that throwing people out on their arses wasn't as fun as Donny made it out to be.

"Come back home," Luke tells him, ever the big brother.  "Mum keeps telling Pop that she thinks there are parts here for you."

"I don't want to stay the theatre forever, Luke."

He can almost hear Luke shrugging over the phone.  "On your own head be it, then - stop poking your sister!  I've got to go, Chris, Sam's out with her friends and the kids are  _monsters_ , but for god's sake, come home if you need to.  It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Before he can tell Luke to mind his own business and bugger off, the click and buzz echoes down the phone line.

He spends months trying to find  _something_  worth doing - and even though he likes his coworkers at the restaurant, it's not what he wants to be doing.  That's not what he flew all the way from the outback to metropolitan London  _for_.

He even shaves his beard and goes to some interviews to be a corporate peon, but all it ends up doing is making him visit Donny at the club and drowning his sorrows in free drinks before Donny drives him back to his flat.

It's one of those nights when Donny cuffs him on the shoulder and says, "I think I might've found a job for you, mate!"

"Oh yeah?" Chris asks him, finishing his vodka tonic and looking at Donny sideways.  "Doing what?"

"Well my brother - Marco, you 'member him, you chatted him up at the Christmas party - he works for this chap in Camden Town doing some modeling bollocks and I got his card for you."

"Modeling?"

Donny shrugs.  "You've the looks for it.  Pretty enough."

"Piss off, Donny," Chris tells him with a laugh.  "Think I should?"

"Better than seeing your ugly mug here every bloody Friday moping about not having a decent job."

Chris raises the shot of vodka that Donny's slid over and downs it with a smile.  "To your health, mate.  I'll check it out."

* * *

 

The building that the agency is in is in a nice area, and Chris has tried to be his most presentable - new slacks, a nice button-down shirt, clean-shaven, hair tied back in a sleek knot.  He set up an appointment with the owner, Shannon, but he doesn't have high hopes.

Once he's in and sitting in her office, she greets him with a smile.  "We are technically just a recommendation agency, but I've had a look at your headshots and I think you'd be perfect for one of our more exclusive clients.  He works on fashion spreads and independent designers looking for new faces in their shots.  I don't know if he'll hire you, but he's agreed to meet you at his agency, if you're willing.  We've a car that can take you on the day that he's open - it's next Tuesday."

 _Well_  then.  This is better than expected.

"If he doesn't want me?"

Shannon shrugs, making it look elegant.  "Then you come back here, and we'll try and work something out.  If it doesn't work out then, we'll keep you on for a bit and see what happens.  If it comes down to it, we'll outsource you to other agencies."

Chris thinks that sounds like an excellent idea.  This way, he'll get the most coverage.  Things are looking up.

"I'd be more than willing to meet with him on Tuesday."

* * *

 

The car that picks him up drives him to one of the more art-based areas of London, somewhere that he's never been to before.  The person he's meeting - a Thomas Hiddleston, and if that isn't a ridiculous name - seems to be a recluse in the photography world, taking select clients and models and even getting an appointment with him is difficult.

He rings the bell and someone buzzes him up without a word - to the top floor, the bloody penthouse that probably costs more for a month than Chris makes in several - and when he gets there, he takes a minute to smooth his hair and check his clothes, and then he knocks.

"'S open!" someone calls from inside, and Chris opens the door to find a very open floor plan, almost a studio flat if it weren't so bloody huge.

The room is empty of people except for a man hunched over a desk, his back to Chris.  "Well come in, don't just stand there in the doorway like a creep."

Chris would be offended if this wasn't the man who might give him a job.

He's wearing some ridiculous studded jacket that is probably worth a fair bit of money, but from the cut of his shoulders it looks good on him.  His hair is red-brown and ridiculously curly, but when he turns it's slicked back from his forehead in an effort to control it.  His goatee is well-kept.

He's very attractive.

Bollocks.

"So you're Christopher?"

"Chris Hemsworth, yes," he says, and strides forward holding out his hand and Thomas shakes it, grip firm.

He has nice hands.

 _Stop it_ , he tells himself.   _This guy could be your boss soon!_

"I'm Tom Hiddleston.  It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, and Chris  _swears_  his voice deepens to a purr before he turns back around and saves whatever he is doing on the computer before getting up and stretching.

"So you want to work for me, do you?  I don't normally get people coming to me - normally, it's the other way around; I see them in Shannon's file, and I offer them a position."

"Well, I wanted to act but it doesn't seem to be panning out, so I thought I'd take a swing at something a little different."

He follows Tom into the interior of the flat, of you can call it that since it's all open save the bedroom and the bathroom, feeling aimless and adrift.

"Well, this is leaps and bounds away from acting, I suppose," Tom muses, filling a glass with water, "so you've certainly changed directions."

Personally, Chris doesn't see much difference between acting and modeling - you have to become someone else for both - but he keeps that to himself.

Tom sighs, finishing his glass of water - and Chris can't help but watch the bob of his adam's apple, the line of his throat as he swallows, because he is a very attractive man - and sets the glass in the sink.

"Well, I don't know if I want to hire you until you finish your audition, I'm sure you realize, so we might as well begin, shall we?  I always preferred to get straight to it.  Better that way, don't you think?"

Chris shrugs.  "Whatever works the best for you.  I'm not picky."

Tom laughs and then he's around the corner of the kitchen island, hand on his shoulder.  "Don't shrug, darling, it's so plebian."

Chris tries to think of a comeback but Tom is really close, and they are nearly the same height, and Tom's eyes are really blue, and how does he keep his skin so nice, and - 

And he's  _kissing_  him, and for a moment Chris lets it happen and an arm snakes around his waist to slip a hand into his back pocket, and he pulls away with a gasp.

"What - what is going on, what the  _fuck_?"

Tom's eyebrows draw together, confused, and he says, "Well, how do you expect me to know if you'll fit in with my employees if I don't fuck you, darling?"

" _Excuse_  me?  That is not what I am here for, I am here to see you about a modelling contract, not - not this!"

Tom's face clouds for a second and then clears, and he laughs so hard that he has to lean against the island to not fall over.  "Darling, that's not at all what you're here for.  I do modelling contracts, yes, but with women for haute couture.  With men - and I cannot believe that this was not explained to you, Shannon normally goes over this - I, ah, sell their attractiveness in an entirely different way."

Chris is silent for a second, and then he blurts out, "You're a pimp?"

"I  _prefer_  the phrase procurer of intimacy, simply because I in no way mistreat my employees, but I  _suppose_  that I could be called a pimp, yes," Tom says, disgruntled, but then his face smooths out.

"The people that work for me come of their own want, for whatever reason, and they may stay as long or for as a short amount of time that they wish.  There is no coercion involved in my line of work.  So I'm surprised that Shannon did not, in fact, inform you, darling."  He slides closer, slipping his arms around Chris' waist again, and Chris can't pull away because Tom is attractive and he's simply shocked.  

"If you want to leave, feel free.  Otherwise, you're free to, ah, audition, because I'd love to have you.  Working for me, I mean," and the statement is punctuated with a wink and Chris can feel himself blushing.

"I - I don't - I've never -" and Chris doesn't finish the sentence, because it's embarrassing, but Tom presses him, "Never what?"

"Never, ah," and he's fucking  _flaming_ , now, he can feel it.

He can pinpoint the moment when Tom gets the idea, and his eyebrows raise comically high and he looks the most shocked that Chris has ever seen anyone.  "Oh.  Oh  _darling,_  how could you have not?  You're stunning.  How could you have not been with someone?"

Chris shrugs again and Tom gets this look in his eye, like something's just come to him, and the smile that comes over his face is downright  _devilish_.

"Well, darling, let me tell you - I've known you for less than an hour and I want to fuck you right into the mattress, make you scream my name, come all over my sheets, and if you want to take me up on the offer I wouldn't mind at all,"  he says and then presses his lips to Chris's ear and hisses, "especially since I know you'll have a nice, fat cock for me to ride later."

Chris doesn't know how to answer that but he hasn't ever gone from terrified to aroused beyond belief so quickly in his life, and he knows Tom can feel it because his hips rock forward into Chris', in a move that Chris has used on girls at the club that says, "look how hot you make me" but he's never been on the receiving end of it before, and  _god_  it makes him even harder.

"Yeah," Tom hisses, biting down on his earlobe for a moment before pulling away to hiss in his ear, "you want it, yeah?  I can feel it now - you're fucking hot for me, you want me to fuck you, you want my cock in you and you don't know how to say it, do you?"

"Fuck," Chris whimpers, and somehow his arms have found their way around Tom's shoulders and they're kissing again, but this time it's teeth and tongue and Tom tastes like tea and honey and the bite of metal you get when you bite your lips.

Tom's hands move to tangle in his hair and it slips from the bun he has it in and then his head is yanked back and Tom's sucking marks into his neck, and oh  _god_  when did his adam's apple get nerves that run straight to his cock, because that's never made him want to cream his pants before - and then Tom's biting into his neck and Chris hisses, but it all feels good.

"Yeah," Tom says again, and pulls away to tug at Chris' belt and Chris follows obediently into Tom's bedroom - and it's clearly not designed for public consumption, because there's laundry all over the place and the bed isn't made, the sheets mussed, and Chris wonders if Tom fucks his employees out in the open part because clearly he didn't mean for Chris to see this part of the flat.

"Get them off, get your clothes off, right now," Tom bites out and his stupid studded jacket and shirt are off before Chris can even process the order, and then he's focused on not looking stupid while he strips out of his shirt and singlet, and when he looks up to see how far Tom's gotten he gets a view of bare arse and the curve of his back as he exits the bedroom to the ensuite, and he almost comes right  _there_.

He scrambles out of his pants and his belt clanks on the floor - it cost twenty quid, he should treat it better, but he doesn't care - and he sits on the edge of the bed to palm the head of his cock, because he's so hard it  _hurts_ , and then Tom comes back through the doorway with a tube of lube.

It hits Chris then that he's going to get fucked, this guy he doesn't even know at all is going to  _fuck him_ , and he can't help it when his hips stutter forward at the sight of Tom, equally hard.

The grin Tom gives him is just  _filthy_ , and if Chris hadn't been gripping the base of his cock at that moment he would have come all over the place and wouldn't  _that_  have been a new low.

"Hands and knees in the middle of the bed, sweetheart," and Chris scrambles to obey, mindless and panting as he gets into the position that Tom wants him, head to the side so that he can see Tom and what he's doing.

"Relax, and breathe deep.  It might hurt, but I promise you, darling, soon you'll be begging for my cock to be in you."

Oh  _god_.

Tom's hands stroke over his back, reaching up to his shoulders and then back down to squeeze his hips, and he doesn't do much else for a long while, until Chris is arching back into his hands, trying to get something, something other than this maddening softness, and Tom just says, "Patience, Chris, patience;  _relax_."

He's so dichotomous, one moment whispering completely filthy things in his ear and then stroking him so softly that Chris doesn't know what to think, what to do.  When Tom wraps his hand around his cock and tugs back his foreskin, he lets out an embarrassing whine and comes.

Tom laughs behind him, but it's not a cruel laugh.  When Chris comes back to himself he knows that it's just an expression of pleasure and Tom's still rubbing his back, so he doesn't fear that Tom didn't want that to happen.

"Let me know when you're good to go," Tom says, and Chris opens his eyes to look back at him.

Tom looks far too pleased about what's just happened but when Chris asks him, "D'you want me to -" Tom just shakes his head.  "I'm fine, darling."

It's then that one warm, slick finger slips between his cheeks and Chris nearly rockets off the bed, because some warning would have been nice, but Tom shushes him and pulls him flush with his hips.

"I'm not starting until you tell me, love, just getting you ready," and he leans forward and presses a kiss to the dip of his spine and that alone makes Chris breathe out, "Oh,  _please_ , Tom."

"Ready?"

"Yes," he whines, and he doesn't even know what he wants, but whatever it is it had better happen soon, because he feels empty and lost and doesn't know where to go from here.

The initial push of Tom's finger isn't what he expected - it's tough and Tom whispers, "Bear down, love," and he does, and then it's the first knuckle, the second, up to the third, and Chris just thinks,  _my god, what was I waiting for that I haven't done this yet_.

He hears Tom hum behind him and it's just that sound that makes him want to know what he's going to sound like when he comes, when he's balls deep and fucking him, and for a moment he loses track of everything, where he is, what he's doing, why, until Tom slips a second finger in.

It feels huge, but not painful, just strange, and Tom whispers, "You're doing  _wonderful_ , darling, you're  _perfect_ ," and Chris could listen to him say things like that forever.

It hurts a bit when he begins to scissor his fingers, but once he's looser his cock jumps every time that Tom gets close to something, and the part of his brain that isn't consumed with sex tells him that it's his prostate but most of it is concerned with "if his cock isn't in me soon, I'm going to  _die_."

"Good?"

"Yes," he says, desperation tingeing his voice, and Tom chuckles behind him and the vibration seems to travel from Tom's chest through his fingers and it makes him push back against Tom's fingers.

"Good boy," Tom grunts, and  _fuck_ , that's so goddamn sexy that Chris almost comes again but he calms himself down, focuses on his hands fisted in the sheets, the sweat on his back, the feeling of Tom's hand on his hip.

"You should take three for my cock, Chris, do you think you can do that?  Three of my fingers in you before my cock, or are you going to come all over my sheets again?"

"I can, I can," he says, and Tom presses a kiss to his shoulder before the third finger nudges against the rim of him, and for a moment Chris thinks to tell him wait, wait, I'm not ready, but Tom is slow and gentle.

He feels immeasurably full now, and the possibility that Tom's cock is going to fit in him is just - he doesn't think that it's possible, because he's so stretched as it is, the burn pleasant but present.

The world buzzes to a hum as Tom nudges something inside him, and  _oh_ , that's just - that's something that he's never felt before, not in all the times that he's jacked himself off or gotten someone else off with his hands or his mouth, but when he comes back he realizes that he's shoving himself back on Tom's fingers.  He has to look positively fucking  _wanton_ , and the hot brand of Tom's cock against his thigh is almost too much.

"Tom, Tom, please, fuck," he manages to get out.

"Yes," Tom tells him, and pulls his fingers out of Chris abruptly and reaches over and around him to root around in his bedside table, pulling out a condom packet.

Chris twists around to watch him roll the condom on himself and that Tom fumbles with it is endearing, because that means that Tom is just as needy as he is right now, and it puts him back on equal footing a little.

"Roll over," Tom tells him, and shoves a pillow under his hips when he does and hikes Chris' ankles onto his shoulders.

"If you want to stop, now would be the time to tell me, darling."

"If you don't fuck me, I will - I will  _punch_  you."

Tom laughs - a glorious  _ehehehe_  that he's never heard before - and he's still for a second before slowly, so slowly, he begins to press forward and Chris hisses, because three fingers might not have been enough, but then he's past the guardian muscles, and this is  _good_.

It's not mind-blowing like people have made him think it would be, but the fact that Tom has his head thrown back, mouth open, panting, is enough to make Chris want to _never stop_  fucking Tom.

It seems to take forever to get Tom all the way in, hips flush against his arse, but he's so full and stretched that he's going walk funny for days, but it's a good full.  Tom waits, waits for him, and then when Chris begins to move Tom follows his lead.

It's slow and steady and Chris went down to half-mast for a bit, but when Tom shifts him up a bit and then presses forward, almost folding Chris, he hits his prostate dead on and sparks  _fly_ , and he has to close his eyes.

This is sex, this is what it is, this is so good,  _too_  good, and then Tom bends him in half - almost so that they can kiss, his weight pressing Chris down so that he has to take shallow, stuttering breaths - and he starts to  _talk_.

"You like that, do you?  I know you do, your cock is fucking leaking all over the place, you  _filthy_  thing, and I know you'll come for me soon.  I bet you that I can get you off just like this, my cock and my voice.  You would, for me, if I asked you, yes?"

Chris moans, and arches up - tries to, but for all his slightness Tom is strong - and Tom chuckles above him, his face positively gorgeous twisted with pleasure.

"Yes, darling, I know, you're close, but a bit longer, just a bit, and then you can come all over yourself, make a mess, and after we wait a bit," and with that he straightens and begins a brutal pace and Chris almost protests, but it's so fucking  _good_ , "after we wait, I'll get you fucking hard again and ride you until you can't see straight, because your cock's for me, isn't it, darling?"

"Yes," Chris manages to get out, gone, lost, wrecked with it.

"Fucking right it is, you'll never find another like me, will you?  My cock's  _ruined you_  for anyone else, you'll never want another person after this.  And if you're a good boy, if you get a good job, I'll fuck you whenever you want, just like this, any way you'd like," and Tom slips Chris' legs around his waist and pushes forward until he can kiss Chris, and against his lips he finishes, "because you're  _mine_ , aren't you Chris, my filthy fucking boy?"

And Chris doesn't know how he can string two words together as they fuck, because he's gone with it, can't even think straight, and it's when Tom bites down on his bottom lip and fucks his mouth with his tongue that Chris cries out through the kiss and comes untouched, from the sheer pressure of Tom's stomach on his cock and steady press against his prostate.

"Yes, you're fucking beautiful, Chris," Tom tells him and rears back and his thrusts turn unsteady, even more brutal, until his hips stutter to a stop and even through the condom Chris can feel him coming, and what's left of his mind thinks,  _I'd like to feel it without the condom_.

Tom slumps forward, his weight welcome because Chris can't be bothered to shove him off.  He's warm and sweaty and through the musk of sweat and sex he smells like a man - bergamot and spices and sweetness all mixed together.

After a few moments, when Chris is just starting to get uncomfortable, Tom shifts his hips back and pulls out, tugging the condom off and tossing it to the side before slumping back onto the bed, manhandling Chris into being the little spoon.

His nose nudges the back of Chris' ear, followed by his tongue.  Chris can't find the energy to protest and he can feel Tom smile against the back of his neck.

"Good boy, you're brilliant, Chris."

"Thanks," Chris says, and he begins to feel awkward, laying in a bed next to a puddle of his own come and covered in it, next to someone that he hasn't even known for a day.

"I meant what I said, you know."

"What?"

"If you want to make this a - ah, regular occurrence, darling, I wouldn't protest at all."

That makes Chris squirm.  "I only have exclusive relationships.  And I don't even  _know_  you."

"Well, it's good that I can have other people hire new employees, then, isn't it?  And my name is Thomas William Hiddleston, born 9 February 1981, one sibling, parents divorced."  Tom bites down on the shell of his ear.  "I also meant what I said about riding you later.  It would be a travesty for me to  _not_  ride your cock."

"Oh," Chris says.

"Yes, darling," Tom replies.

"I don't have a middle name.  And my birthday's 11 August 1983."

"Mmm," Tom says, rubbing his chin against Chris' shoulder, "see, darling, we're getting to know each other already."


End file.
